


amen

by starsnatched



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel/Demon Relationship, Angel/Demon Sex, Body Worship, Bottom Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Character Study, Churches & Cathedrals, Cock Warming, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Might add more tags, Mild Humiliation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Relationship Study, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Spit As Lube, Top Kim Jungwoo (NCT), it's only mild though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:34:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27930832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsnatched/pseuds/starsnatched
Summary: What do you believe when no one is around?
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Kim Jungwoo
Comments: 21
Kudos: 126





	amen

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea what i wrote, my mind just went VROOM VROOM and then this was made. i wanted to try a new style of writing (?) and a new concept so... here is the product
> 
> let me know what you think!

_What do you believe when everyone is watching?_

Doyoung believes in God. 

He believes in God, he says, as he kneels in front of one of the church’s many pews. The congregation sings about the Almighty, and how people are in awe and in love and in fear of Him. The building sways to the force of their song. 

He believes in God, he says, when the church commands the people to stand, sit, stand, sit. A monotonous and prosaic cycle. He stands without complaint when the pastor tells everyone to do so for yet another song, another hymn to praise Him. The holy bread settles Doyoung’s stomach like a rock. _It would be funny,_ the ravenet thinks to himself. _If it were the same bread Jesus turned from stone._

He believes in God, he says, as he shakes the hand of other churchgoers. They smile, all white teeth and black eyes. 

“Peace be with you,” A woman says, a grin plastered on her cheeks like a bad magazine cutout. It’s out of place, unnatural, but Doyoung smiles back with a fake twinkle of his own. He wonders what has happened to her that she has made her smile so… dull. Surely, she is not like him? No, no it can’t be. He knows.

“Peace be with you.” He repeats, like a broken record. Her eyes, dead, blink sluggishly as she widens her smile. It’s almost ghoulish, the way her lips stretch in order to make her act more convincing. Is this even a person?

 _She is a human,_ Doyoung concludes. He turns away from her, from her glazed eyes and her awful smile, as another psalm shakes the church’s foundation. _I know what non-humans look like._

“Mass has concluded! Go in peace!” The priest says, raising his arms up high. Light reflects against the stained glass windows and dyes his skin red. The people roar, in high spirits. Whether they are sincere or not remains to be seen.

But Doyoung doesn’t move a muscle. He stands and watches, like the rest of the congregation, as the pastor steps off his platform to spray the holy water. Some people cheer as the priest flicks his wrist, sending droplets flying. A cheerful recessional hymn stalks behind him. 

As the so-called holy man reaches Doyoung’s aisle, the ravenet steels himself. The clergyman looks so happy, laughter ringing throughout the church almost as much as the psalm does. _Drunk off his influence, I bet._

A few drops of water land on his arm. Doyoung shivers. It’s cold, but it also burns. It lingers atop his skin, but it also hisses through the layers.

“Mass has concluded! Go—” The priest’s voice fades as he keeps walking, and Doyoung takes it as his cue to stand. Those that have been cleansed by the holy water are already leaving, eager to be done with it. 

Guess they’re not sincere, after all.

Doyoung weaves in and out of the crowd, like how Satan crawled through Eden’s garden as a serpent, relaxing once he slips past the tall doors. His chest always felt a little too tight in there, and his body a little too heavy; was it the people, or the Scriptures? Surely, it was not God. He did not care to exist among them, contrary to what people think. Doyoung knows.

He has to go home. He made a promise; if he breaks it, who knows what would happen?

His heart grips him like a vice. 

_What do you believe when no one is around?_

It can only be answered behind closed doors.

“You’re back,” Jungwoo purrs as he lounges on the bed, clad only in a robe; one of the sleeves slide off his shoulder, revealing milky, unblemished skin. His hair is a curly halo, a light brown cloud. Jungwoo places the book he was reading on his bedside table, crooks a finger, and Doyoung obediently walks up to him. A click of the angel’s tongue and the other is on his knees. 

The younger then runs a hand down the ravenett’s arm, the one that was splattered with holy water. The burns are gone. Jungwoo's hand is cool to the touch. “Did it hurt?”

“Yes,” Doyoung shuts his eyes, stiffening when a hand plays with his hair. “Yes, it did.”

“I would suppose that you were lucky that it wasn’t a lot,” Fingers tug at the jet-black locks softly, then harsher. Jungwoo relishes in the whimper he’s gifted in return. “Then again, my little demon likes it when it’s painful, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” The older swallows, slightly shivering. “I do.”

Jungwoo hums, letting his hand rest on the nimbus of black hair, “Strip and unfurl.”

Doyoung knows that the angel does not like to waste time, so he hurriedly undresses himself. The clothes make a pool on the floor, and the shorter hisses slightly when the coldness of the room hits his skin. He stands there, trying to cover himself up the best he can, flushed. He can’t bring himself to look at the brunett. 

“What did I say? Unfurl.”

The demon lets out a shaky sigh, closing his eyes. There’s the sound of the harsh splinter of bone, the soft fluttering of feathers; there is pain, but there is also comfort. Doyoung throws his head back, moaning when they finally unfold and take up space. It feels shameful and homely as the fire below his skin thrums. Black feathers drift to the ground. The bones that lined the muscles of his wings are dirty white stained with red blood, the tips of his wings sharp and crooked because of the claws that stretch past. 

His hands instinctively run across one of his wings, half and half. A finger registers the feathers, inky black and silky smooth while another digit feels his _true_ self, the one that festers the bottom part of his wings. The batlike characteristics symbolizing his nature are leathery and coarse.

It’s disgusting. It’s beautiful. It’s _demonic_ , and that’s why it was also so divine.

“Feels good?” Jungwoo’s voice makes the older jolt. “My little demon must have been in so much discomfort, having to keep his wings hidden during the mass.”

“I was.” Doyoung whispers, wings curling in on himself, submissive. He opens his eyes to see the younger undressing himself. He watches the angel lick his lips and Doyoung shrinks. The way Jungwoo lets his robe drift onto the floor is elegant. 

“Oh, and your horns, sweetheart—” The demon reaches a hand up to feel at his hair. Right there, he feels hard bone. It’s not as ornate or showy as the higher demons, but they are there. The ravenet can see them from the corner of his eye, curling once. His tail uncurls, wrapping around his waist. “It must have been _really_ stifling.”

“It was,” Doyoung’s voice catches on a whine. He was such a simple creature; Jungwoo knows how to take advantage of that.

“My poor little devil,” The angel coos, spreading his legs so that his cock can be seen. He looks like what humans call ‘models’, sprawled across the sheets like he was the muse for ‘The Nude Maja’. Jungwoo bleeds temptation from his pores. “Service me, and maybe we can take care of your… discomfort.”

Doyoung wastes no time. He gets on the bed, wanting to satisfy. His hands, adorned with black claws, softly grip the younger’s legs as he kisses the head of the other’s cock almost reverently. He lets a tongue trail down the sides, leaves messy kisses all over; a wanton form of worship. A hand plays with his black hair, egging him on. “Keep going, darling. You’re doing good.” 

Boosted by the encouragement, the demon wraps his lips around the head, sucking shallowly. He goes deeper, bit by bit, until he can feel Jungwoo’s cock hit the back of his throat. Doyoung hums, resting his head on the inside of one of the taller’s thighs carefully so as to not poke the angel with his horns, and he feels relaxed and peaceful. He stays like that for a while, perfectly content.

The hand burrowed in his hair is gentle, and Jungwoo’s voice is mixed with sweet syrup and Latin as he speaks. The words, however, are anything but. **“Rid this demon of his strength.”**

Doyoung chokes, thrashes around as the words make him lose the strength in his legs. His wings quiver, his tail smacks against the bedsheets, and the demon’s eyes water as he looks up at the brunett. Jungwoo just smiles, stroking the shorter’s hair. “Sorry. You were making me feel so good that I forgot the effects the holy words have on you.”

A complete, absolute, total lie. The angel loves to make Doyoung weak. 

“Get up, honey,” Jungwoo tugs the older off, thumbs away the drool that drips from the demon’s mouth. Doyoung trembles, eyes wide and misty. He goes without a fight, a string of spit still connecting his lips to the other’s cock. “Lay on your back.”

Jungwoo gently cradles the other’s backside as he guides the demon down onto the bed. “Watch your wings, you pretty thing.”

The demon finds it so odd, being treated like glass and like he’s Jungwoo’s world. Doyoung is, quite literally, a hellspawn; he was born from fire and brimstone, made to lead humans astray and bring despair to those that reside in Heaven. He was programmed to cause chaos, to trust in Satan as one of his children. 

But, with no one around, what does he believe in?

“I, for one, can’t wait,” Jungwoo’s murmuring and soft groans is the reason why the older stops spacing out. Doyoung’s mouth drops open in fear, in admiration; he’s hypnotized by the angel’s creamy-white wings, unfurled majestically and caging the both of them in. The wings cast shadows along their faces, but it does nothing to hide the sensual flame in Jungwoo’s eyes. “But of course, you need to be prepped—”

“No. No prep,” The demon gasps as he pulls the younger closer. He wraps his legs around the brunett’s waist to lock him in, hands gripping Jungwoo’s biceps. A worried look crosses the angel’s face like a thundercloud. Doyoung doesn’t like that all that much. “Just… Just give it to me.”

“This type of pain might not be the kind you like, hyung.”

“I already did. I already prepped before I left for mass,” The ravenet repeats as he takes one of Jungwoo’s hands and brings it to his lips, a faint grin on his lips. His eyes are half-lidded with desire, and he slurs his words with nympholepsy. “You said you can’t wait, so give it to me. I want it.”

“You’re insatiable,” Jungwoo’s laugh is soft. He spits into his hand. Such a messy action that Doyoung wouldn’t have thought that the younger was an angel, if it weren’t for the white wings that command presence. “And you beg a little, now. You used to fight back then.”

“I fought to lose,” The ravenet says as he watches the other line himself up, cock lubed with spit. “I love losing to you. Or I used to. I’d rather not drag it on anymore.”

“Glad to know that you skip the foreplay," The angel giggles, rubbing himself against the demon’s hole. “May I…?”

“Yes. Yes, fuck, please,” Doyoung groans, throwing his head back when Jungwoo pushes in. The stretch burns; not quite like the blessed water or the Latin prayer, but close. Perhaps he should’ve prepared himself more, but he likes the feeling of being split apart. “S-Shit.”

“Relax,” The angel’s soft voice settles on the older’s skin like a soothing salve, something to combat the licking embers that permeates the ravenet’s being. Jungwoo leaves mild kisses along the other’s body, lowers his wings so as to not frighten the demon. “Please.”

Doyoung trembles, clenching and unclenching. His eyes flicker over white feathers and his mind clings to the thought of Jungwoo, Jungwoo, Jungwoo.

“Move,” The demon pants, slowly circling his hips. He moans when the brunett’s continues to fill him ever so slowly, keeps going deeper. Doyoung is such a masochist; it runs in the demons’ blood, for they are destined to always lose. To God, to His angels, to tantalization. “Please, Jungwoo, move.”

The younger can never— _will_ never— refuse the demon anything. It’s always in angel’s blood, to give. Divine messages, praises, into temptation. 

Jungwoo pulls out, watching how the ravenet’s hole squeezes around nothing, before ramming back in. Doyoung’s moans are better than the songs the other angels sing, back in Heaven. 

“You will be begging to be purified. You will be begging for forgiveness—” The angel babbles, his wings spreading once more as a show of dominance. The other whimpers, hands running where they can. Jungwoo is perfect. “Filthy, filthy, demon. You are obscene.”

Tears spring to Doyoung’s eyes as the words make him burn all over again, hotter than the blazes of hell. “I… I—”

 **“Make this—”** Jungwoo’s voice commands authority, and it makes the demon sob. Doyoung’s wings try to stretch out, his instincts telling him to fight, but he swallows them down. The words make the fragile threads of Doyoung’s thoughts unravel into… into something; many somethings, actually, that eventually equate to nothing. **“Make this demon beg.”**

“Jungwoo!” The demon cries out, seeing stars as the younger had driven into his prostate. His claws rake down perfect skin, drawing red lines and blood. The pain just makes the taller hiss and pick up the pace. “Please, please, _ah—!_ ”

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, hyung,” Jungwoo pants, hair falling over his eyes. He looks desperate, sounds desperate, acts like it as he burrows his face into Doyoung’s neck to leave bites. “So sweet, so… so exquisite.”

The brunett sees this monster—this vile and despised being—as something to be cherished. This angel, made in God’s image, sees this demon as flawless; Jungwoo believes that Doyoung—out of all creatures in existence— is heavenly.

Which is why Doyoung’s answer, in kind, can only be said when no one else is around. 

“Jungwoo, Jungwoo, Jungwoo,” The ravenet invokes the name like he’s praying. His hands are everywhere, leaving their mark, jagged patterns that are beyond comprehension. He pulls the taller closer, ruts against the angel to meet his thrusts. Doyoung feels pride poke at his heart when the younger stutters in his rhythm. “Fuck, _Jungwoo_.”

“Hyung…” The angel mutters, spellbound, moving to kiss the other’s horns. His hands move to ardently feel along the ravenet’s wings. Soft, black feathers. Warm, rough skin. Two things that shouldn’t blend together, but they do. 

And to Jungwoo, the wings should be sickening— _Doyoung_ should be revolting. But when the younger leans in for a soft kiss, so unlike the way he’s fucking and the prayers and the holy water and everything else… Jungwoo treats him anything but. The angel pushes away the hair out of the shorter’s face, Doyoung looks into the pair of eyes that murmur, _Pay attention to me._

He falls into the bottomless abyss, into the other’s gaze that’s pitch black but at the same time filled to the brim with emotions. Lust, happiness, contentment; maybe a little bit of love. But the demon knows what non-humans look like, because Jungwoo has that twinkle in his eye that gives Doyoung the confidence to say—

Jungwoo is _alive_. 

The memory of the woman in the church has Doyoung’s heart bleeding. Humans. Poor, poor humans.

“Kiss me.” The older whimpers out, breaking the hand hold so his fingers can tangle in light brown hair. Lips messily meet each other, slurping sounds accompanying the slap of skin. A clawed hand trails down to jerk the demon’s cock, flushed red and weeping precome. 

“Are you close, beautiful?” The name makes tears run down Doyoung’s cheek. He’s beautiful. Jungwoo thinks he’s beautiful. But the angel takes it the wrong way and stops, hand wiping away what they can. “Does it hurt, hyung?”

“Don’t stop,” Doyoung wails, grinding furiously against the other’s hips. The younger obeys, moving harder than ever before, but the demon is too far gone. “Don’t stop, Jungwoo. Oh, please, I’m close—”

“I got you,” Jungwoo whispers, one of his own hands scouring among the sheets for a particular something. Everything is messy, hurried; filthy sounds echo around the room, in their own little bubble that is their world. Doyoung’s eyes roll around in his head as something more familiar than the fires of Hell, than home. Something more heated and exciting bubbles under his skin like magma, threatening to erupt. “Come whenever you want.”

“Keep calling me… um...”

“What, hyung? What?”

“C-Call me beautiful,” Doyoung mumbles, pink. He slings an arm over his face embarrassed. “Please.”

Jungwoo gently peels the demon’s arm away. The brunett affectionately tucks away stray strands of hair from the shorter’s eyes before leaning in to pepper kisses all over the flushed skin. His praises follow behind like spectres. 

“Beautiful.”

“Gorgeous.”

“The apple of my eye.” Doyoung giggles to that one. 

“Lovely,” Jungwoo’s hand finds the demon’s tail, slowly feeling it up. The ravenet chokes on a moan, toes curling as his legs lock around the taller’s lower back. “Perfect. You’re perfect.” 

_To me._ It goes unspoken, but it’s there, blanketed in the silence. 

“Jungwoo, I’m g-going to—” Doyoung voice catches on a mewl, body going rigid. Even the hand pumping his cock stops, and the brunett squeezes the demon’s tail hard. Pain racks through the ravenet’s body, making him force out a stifled moan. Even though Jungwoo’s grip doesn’t loosen, the shorter can feel more kisses along his body; Doyoung hears more soft muttering beside his ear, and he closes his eyes as the sensations swallow him whole. As he's being consumed by flames hotter than home, there's only one thing that prevents him from turning into ashes.

He believes in Jungwoo.

“Humans,” Doyoung mutters as the angel and demon lay side by side. They’ve cleaned up and, tired, lay on the bed with their bones. Their wings are folded, and the ravenet’s tail is wrapped around his waist once more. “I’ve never felt such pity for them until I attend mass and see for myself.”

“They’re a lost cause,” Jungwoo mumbles, leaving kisses into tough horns and soft hair. His hands run along the smaller’s neck; the hickeys are fading quickly, a testament to Doyoung’s otherworldly origins. “They were doomed from the start.”

“I don’t think an angel of God should be saying these things.”

“I’m just a messenger,” The brunett sighs, stretching his wings for a moment before folding them back in. “And what use is a messenger if the recipients of those messages don’t listen?”

Doyoung just hugs the angel closer, letting Jungwoo’s chin rest on top of his head. The taller sighs, burrowing his face to the smell of fire and solace. “Not even my maker wants me. I’m just one out of… well, the Lord knows how many more messengers are there.”

“I want you.” The ravenet says, leaving a peck on the other’s bare collarbone; the scratch marks have disappeared, thanks to Jungwoo’s mystical roots. 

The demon feels his chin being lifted up, being pulled in for a soft kiss, and he melts. Doyoung slings a leg over the taller, hands reaching to cup at the brunett’s cheeks. He thinks he hears Jungwoo whisper a breathless ‘beautiful’ as their tongues dance. 

They were always destined to lose. To each other? Perhaps.

**Author's Note:**

> so... t h a t happened. do i regret it? no
> 
> twitter: @starsnatched


End file.
